I have pondered beyond mere daydream, letting my heart & soul wander to where they will, and have arrived at conclusions that bring me joy.

The East Wind stirs; blows the Breath of Life across barren soil and the browned and deadened things left behind after a short Winter’s calling. I feel Spring coming.

The way the sun plays bright fingers through the trees’ freshening greens, the light that dances upon hardy Winter Rye, still flashing verdantly, oppositional to the brown Florida Bahia, killed with the last January frost, speaks to me of growing seeds.

I have favored Spring even before my heart could recognize the cause of such connectedness to earthly things. This is the time of awakenings, the beginning of all things and the ending of all things before. Weeds and thistles give way to dandelions and lyreleaf, mullein will still hold out, but primrose slowly creeps up to take her place.

Winter calls me home to pray, reminds me of ancestors and reckoning and solitary pursuits, and Summer fires my Spirit to craft and make music, Autumn is stern and working class, demanding preparedness and steadiness in the months thereafter. But Spring pulls my heartstrings, makes magic of my feet. I feel new and reborn and almost glowing. I hear more from the plants, I can talk longer with the trees, having caught them waking and joyous at the turning to the season. Birds always visit when the Land is budding again.

So it is here, where I feel Spring coming, that I feel most pleasant. Yes, Spring is my favorite season.